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"Jesus, it's hot," Sam mutters, cringing a little at the sticky-warm touch of the hotel doorknob under his fingers.
"But it's a dry heat," Dean chirps, his best 'doofus-Marine-from-Alien' voice.
Sam just gives him a filthy look, because it's not a dry heat. The air is so thick and humid it's practically alive and they're barely two steps into the room before Dean is stripping out of the suit they got at Goodwill. Agent Ford and Agent Hamill ride again. The room is as hot inside as it is outside. The unit under the window gives a pathetic, kicked-dog whine when Sam turns it on and he snorts in disgust and grabs the ice bucket.
"Gonna get some ice and stuff, I'll be right back," he says. Dean grunts, shoes and one sock off, jacket, tie and shirt on the bed, slacks coming down. Sam roots out the salt they were forced to buy from a bodega and tosses it to Dean who catches it, letting go of the slacks. He looks totally dorky standing there in boxer-briefs, the Morton Salt girl clutched to his chest and his pants around his ankles. "You do the salt, okay?"
"Gimme a root beer," Dean says, and Sam wanders back out, jerking his tie loose and cursing the way his shirt is sticking to his back. Louisiana in the summer sucks.
"Man, I think that shower made me hotter," Dean says, tossing his towel over the desk chair and rooting into his duffel for underwear and socks. He comes across socks first and starts pulling one on. "And I'm fuckin' starvin' - you hungry?" The sock sticks and Dean yanks it on, almost falling - turns to look over his shoulder.
"S-sam?" Staring at Sammy, who's leaning against the door. Who's barefoot and jacketless and whose white shirt is held together by one button - whose tie is open and loose around his neck, gold and green stripes that glow a little in the dim motel light. Pants open just enough to show dark, curling hair and the gleaming-wet tip of his cock and...
"I'm kinda hot, actually," Sam says, and the piece of ice in his fingers slips from jaw to collarbone to chest.
"Kinda..." Dean mumbles, and then he drops the other sock and stumbles over to Sam, eyes fixed with lizard-like intensity on the sparkling-wet trail of ice-melt.
"You hot, Dean?" Sam murmurs, and his hand glides over pale-tan flesh to the line of crisp hair just under his navel. His shirt is pushed back over his hip-bones and Dean wants to suck one into his mouth right now.
"Yeah, I'm...fuckin' hot..." Dean blinks and gets his wits back with a snap - grabs Sam's tie and yanks Sam right into him. Sam's mouth is cold and wet under Dean's - speck of ice-chip gliding across Dean's tongue as Sam's mouth opens under his. Bump of their hips and then Dean gasps softly as Sam's ice-chilled fingers walk down his spine. "Jesus..."
Sam's laughing, the little bastard - laughing softly as Dean's mouth finds the pulse in his throat and the curve of his Adam's apple and Dean's fingers grope blindly - find the ice bucket on the edge of the battered dresser and plunge in.
Slippery handful, already melting and Dean pushes it all into Sam's belly - laughs himself at Sam's instinctive flinch and curl and then Sam's curling the other way - back arching and hips angling out and hands going to fists against the scratched wood-chip door. Pushing into the cold and Dean opens his hand and glides ice and ice-water and chilled flesh up Sam's ribs - across his nipples. His other hand twisting into the fake silk of the tie - pulling Sam's mouth back to his as ice and hand goes around Sam's body and ends in a melting, shivery mess at the small of Sam's back.
"Dean, fuck -" Gasped out between hard kisses and Dean tugs and turns and pushes and Sam's on his back on the bed, pants rucked down around his hips and the shirt flaring open, button pulling free of the worn buttonhole. The snakeskin glimmer of the tie is across Sam's neck - against one nipple and Dean picks up the ice and settles on his knees between Sam's spread thighs.
"C'mon, Dean, c'mon -" Sam murmurs, watching Dean through half-closed eyes. Skin tingling and prickling everywhere the ice has touched. Dean fishes a single piece of ice out of the bucket - leans forward, his fist depressing the bed by Sam's hip. The ice touches - hipbone, pubic bone - swirls around Sam's navel and Sam pants softly, his hands twisting in the sheets.
"Put your arms up over your head, Sam," Dean whispers, and Sam does. Sucks in a sharp breath when the ice skates up the center of his chest and then outlines a nipple. Circling and retreating and skimming across until the flesh is tight and upright and so, so cold.
Dean's tongue, when it laps over that same flesh, is molten and Sam cries out, pushing up frantically as Dean licks and sucks - bites gently. Ice slipping over ribs and pectoral and along the line of Sam's bicep, drops of water in the sweat-damp hair under his arm.
"Dean, Dean -"
"Mmm..." Hum of Dean's voice all through Sam's chest as Dean kisses - sucks - digs for more ice and smoothes it over Sam's collarbones and Sam is writhing - twisting - hips arching up and his cock thrumming with blood. Dean's body dips down and pushes, the slippery-wet head of his cock skimming along Sam's hip - pushing into the hollow, stutter-glide of delicious friction.
Dean's hands are pushing and pulling and jerking at the shirt and Sam comes up off the bed and helps him, stripping it off and throwing it aside. Dean's body lays over his, his skin hot and smooth, his mouth finding that spot just under Sam's chin and biting. Pressure across Sam's throat as Dean tugs the tie aside - twists it in his fingers and kisses Sam's mouth.
"Dean, I want -"
"Yeah, I got it -" Dean's hips are grinding down, around, up - down, around, up - slip of his belly against Sam's cock and Sam gets both hands on Dean's ass and urges him on -faster, harder, more. Crunch of Dean's fingers in the ice again and then Dean's mouth is moving down and down, cold and wet and clever and -
"Fuck!" Sam's hips come right up off the bed as Dean's mouth closes around his cock - as tongue and ice slip and slide around the crown and down and down and fuck - doesn't Dean have to breathe? Sam's fingers tangle in Dean's hair and he kicks his legs uselessly under Dean's chest, trying to work the damn slacks off, just get them the fuck off -
"C'mon, turn over -" Dean's urging him over - up - slacks pushed down and knees as wide as they can go, tie tight to his throat and the end somewhere in Dean's fist, tug and twitch like a leash. Sam's got his hands planted wide on the sheets and he feels the smooth curve of another piece of ice inching down his back, s-curving like a desert snake around his vertebrae - around his shoulder blades. Dean's mouth follows, hot and sure. Ice and water slicking his hip - tickling trickle curving around and then ice slipping between - slipping in and Dean's palm on Sam's ass, pulling him open.
"Dean -"
Sam's voice is almost agonized - raw and breathless and wet and Dean kisses the little dip at the bottom of Sam's spine - lets his tongue slide down goose bumped skin, following the trail of cold while his hand dips into the ice again.
"Shhh, shhh...I got you...cool you down and...heat you back up..." Dean's tongue slips inside, past fluttering muscle and into hotcold while Sam's hips push back and his knees slip wider, hobbled by the slacks. Dean draws circles with his tongue and with ice and watches Sam's muscles leap and ripple as he slides another piece of ice inside. And another, and Sam is whining down in his chest, gasping after breath, his shoulders digging into the mattress and his hands twisting helplessly in the sheets.
Dean cups Sam's balls in his palm - rolls and tugs them, heavy in his hand. Curls his wet, cool fingers around Sam's cock and strokes him slowly, tongue busy tickling over sensitive flesh.
"God, n-need -"
"Me too. Just gotta -" Dean starts to pull away - lube somewhere in his duffle and fuck, should have thought of that, should have planned... But Sam's pushing himself up on his elbows, looking over his shoulder with a sly little grin and a wiggle of his ass.
"Left pocket, Dean."
"Slut," Dean says, but he scrabbles in the pocket of Sam's slacks and comes up with a little tube - pops the cap and squishes it hard, shivering at the touch of cool gel. "Damn, yeah, you ready? You ready, Sam?"
"Fuck yeah, just -" Dean doesn't wait - goes up straight on his knees, hand flat to the small of Sam's back, cock in his other hand, guiding. Running the head, slick and warm, up and down the crease of Sam's ass until Sam is humping back into him, cursing and gasping and all but growling. Dean slips - pushes - sinks in half an inch and moves a knee. Then he leans forward and gets the tie in his fist - pulls Sam back at the same moment his hips buck forward and he's in, in. Heat and then cold and the press of melting ice and Sam's back is arching hard, his head back - mouth wide - the tie taut and twisted against his throat.
"Sam, god...fuck -" Dean pushes a little harder and then starts to pull out, circling his hips. His hand tight on Sam's hip, his gaze on the arched and trembling line of Sam's back - his throat. Sam makes an inarticulate little noise, breathless whimper and Dean pulls back a little more - pushes back in, shivering at the slip-slide of ice along the shaft of his cock - at the frantic clasp of muscle as Sam's body tries to pull him deeper. "Fuck...Sam, you look..." Dean spreads his knees a little wider, socked foot skidding on the cheap poly spread, bare foot giving him leverage to push in deep.
"Dean - Dean -"
"Pretty, so fucking...love how you take me in...watch that all day..." Dean leans back and pumps his hips, thumb digging into the muscle of Sam's ass, pulling him wide. Gaze locked on the flushed length of himself pushing in and pulling out. Watching the ring of dusky-rose flesh pout and clench and work around him. "Sweet little..."
"Jesus, Dean, just - fuck - do it!" Sam's shivering all over - breathing high and fast, his hands locked on the headboard and his back arching hard, accommodating the pull of Dean's hand on the tie.
"Christ, you look -" Dean leans forward, mouthing the line of Sam's neck and shoulder, leaving marks with teeth and tongue. "Fucking perfect, so fucking good...feel so damn good, Sam...c'mon - tighter -"
Sam's body ripples, clenching, and Dean huffs a breath into Sam's neck, moaning. "Sam...Sam..." Dean curls his arm around Sam's belly and pulls him upright - holds him tight. Back to chest and Sam's cock in his hand. His other hand still tangled in the tie, fingers splayed over Sam's throat.
There's ice and water pooling at Dean's right knee and he thrusts up, hard and fast - reaches blindly to scoop up a last, slippery lozenge of ice and curls his hand around Sam's cock again. Sam's breath whines out of his throat and his hands lock down on Dean's hips, fingers digging in.
"Yeah, god - c'mon Dean - f-ff -"
Dean can't talk - can't think - can't do anything but drive up and in, harder and harder. Wanting to be closer - deeper. Sam's head falls back on his shoulder, mouth open and wet - eyes wide - and suddenly he's arching, his whole body going rigid as his cock pulses in Dean's hand. Dean moans, his tongue tasting salt and the faint sweet of shampoo on Sam's shoulder, eyes locked on the pale arcs of come that are shooting over his fist.
His own body is trembling - vibrating at a fever pitch as he thrusts - as he pushes Sam down and just pounds, liquid sound of flesh on flesh and Sam's fists in the sheets - his hips lifting and pushing and his body still convulsing deep inside. Wrapping tight around Dean and bringing the orgasm roaring out of him. Freight train - jet plane - something pounding and soaring and fucking hot and Dean finally collapses across Sam's back, panting. His ankle itches where the sock is sticking to sweat-damp skin.
"Dean -"
"Mnphf."
"Dean, you're too heavy," Sam says, voice muffled and a little breathless and Dean shifts just enough so that he's not quite on Sam anymore, but still snugly inside. His fingers uncramp from their death-grip on the tie and he smooths it down Sam's back.
"D'j'ou plan that?" Dean mumbles, and Sam chuckles softly - shifts a little and turns his head and his mouth is right there, just brushing Dean's forehead.
"I know you and fucking ties, man," Sam says. "You're such a perv."
"You're the one got the ice."
"You're the one that shoved it up my ass."
"You liked it," Dean says, with a little push of his hips and Sam shudders and clenches around him.
"Yeah, fuck it. Bring on the kink."